Dean sang, ‘It's easier to say I love you than tonda wanda hoy comma kalai. / And wouldn't you rather say I love youthan tonda wanda hoy comma kalai.’
I stretched out on top of the sheets and propped myself up against the wall with a pillow to watch the film.
Later, Jerry Lewis sings the same song as Dean Martin, but in a dress, wearing a blond wig, to a drunken sergeant who’s enamoured with Lewis. That’s when I fell asleep for an hour or so.
My dreams were vivid and violent. I tossed and turned and awoke covered in sweat. I felt embarrassed over how much I’d sweat in my sleep, even though no one was around to witness it. I drank some water from the bottle on the bedside table. I shut off the TV.
I knew I wouldn’t be falling back asleep any time soon, so I took my laptop out of my knapsack and decided to try and work for a while. I opened a new Word doc and typed out my notes from the party, elaborating on a few of them. I didn’t have much of an idea of what I’d write for the article yet. Afterward, I worked on another story, a piece of fiction I was writing, for an hour or so, making little progress, though it occupied me for a while. Then I shut the laptop and picked up a book.
I decided to take one more valerian pill and force myself to sleep at least another hour. First, I jerked off; then, I fell asleep.
Sleep only lasted so long, though I remained motionless in bed for as long as possible. Eventually, restlessness got the best of me and I hit the shower. The shower was hot and the washroom steamed up, and there was no real change in the condition of my arm: that is, it was still discoloured and sore.
I shut off the shower and dried myself. I wiped the steam from the mirror. There was something underneath my eye. I examined myself closely. A blood vessel had burst under my right eye, by the looks of it. Under the eye it was now bruised black and looked like the black grease football players and baseball players use to cut down on the glare from the sunlight. I rubbed at it but it wouldn’t come off. It wasn’t eye black; it was definitely internal.
When I finished dressing I put on sunglasses before heading out for breakfast.
Only one other man sat on the terrace at a nearby table. He had a greying buzz cut and was drinking a large Tusker at nine a.m. He was also smoking a small cigar. He was thick through the neck and shoulders — the first word I thought when I saw him was mercenary. He was extremely red, with sun, booze and blood pressure. Also, in a brash British accent, he was extremely rude to Robert, the waiter.
‘I need a beer, pronto, and don’t take your bloody time like last time,’ he said to Robert. ‘You hear me?’
Robert said, ‘Yessir,’ and turned on his heel.
This man turned and looked at me spitefully, while spitting tobacco flecks from his lips. He held my gaze. I was the first to look away, even though I was wearing sunglasses and he wasn’t; still, I flinched first, avoiding the menacing fixity of his gaze.
When he seemed satisfied that I was too weak to bother about, he returned his attention to his beer and cigar. I finished my tea and got up, leaving most of my breakfast, the same breakfast as the day before, untouched. The man paid me no mind when I got up to leave.
In the lobby I bumped into Boris, who was on his way to breakfast.
‘Hey man,’ I said. ‘I’m just going to go to my room to take my pills but I’ll be back down soon.’
Sveta picked us up in a hatchback similar to Martin’s, with Alexi and Tanya sitting in the backseat. I got in the back with them and Boris rode up front with Sveta. We were going to the Nairobi Animal Orphanage, Sveta told me, when I asked.
‘It’s not very big,’ she said. ‘But there are monkeys and giraffes and I’ve seen lions there before, too, but I’m not sure if there are any there at the moment.’
‘Cool,’ I said.
‘You can feed giraffes,’ Sveta said.
‘Boris was telling me.’
‘I’m going to feed a giraffe,’ said Tanya. ‘I have before but I’m going to again.’
‘I think I’ll feed a giraffe, too,’ I said.
‘You should,’ said Tanya. ‘It’s free!’
‘Well, with admission,’ said Boris.
The drive took approximately half an hour. The park looked somewhat run-down but I spotted several giraffes right away and was surprised by how excited I was to see them. Tanya and Alexi were excited, too, but Sveta and Boris seemed unimpressed. We pulled up to a gate with a guard and Boris paid, then we parked. We got out and instinctively started walking toward an area where one could feed the giraffes on the other side of a fence, by a gigantic tree — an oak tree, I thought, though I had no idea if oak trees grew on the outskirts of Nairobi.
‘How much do I owe you?’ I said to Boris, as we walked toward the park.
‘Nothing, man. I just paid for a car full of people so it’s not a big deal,’ he said. ‘The petting zoo’s on me!’
‘Ha, well, thanks.’
We walked past a small chain-link fenced-off area, a chain-link cage really, where a solitary ratty hyena drank water from a large brown plastic bowl with the jagged indentations of teethmarks all over it.
By the large tree, there was a handful of people, four or five, with their hands extended, feeding the four giraffes. The giraffes bent their long beautiful necks and ate some form of vegetable pellets right out of the tourists’ hands. Small tusked warthogs ran around at the feet of the giraffes.
There was a large sort of gumball machine that dispensed the pellets, without having to put coins in it, and right beside it was an industrial hand-sanitizing station.
Sveta cranked out some feed for the kids and then I cranked out some for myself. Boris picked Tanya up so she could feed a giraffe, who obediently lowered its neck and lapped up the feed, its inky-black eyes big and shiny and dreamy, amber at the edges, with long lashes and heavy lids. The eyes were mesmerizing in their beauty and sublime docility, I thought. An evolved species.
When its tongue emerged, we all laughed uncontrollably, even Boris.
Next, Sveta lifted Alexi up to feed our friend and I patiently awaited my turn. The little boy smiled when the giraffe took the feed but quickly seemed to lose interest, which pleased me, because it meant it was my turn.
I extended my arm and hand, with the pellets held upward, and the giraffe slowly and fluidly shifted its neck and head toward me, briefly acknowledging me with an all-consuming benevolent gaze, then the giant tongue emerged and lapped up the feed. Its long tongue was black at the tip, like hard plastic, though turned a deep purple and then pinkish and moist the further back it went. I laughed like a fool, a fool drunkenly in love, for a moment forgetting my worries, forgetting myself.
Boris and Sveta both smiled at me. I promptly made my way to the hand-sanitizing station.
Sveta watched the kids as they ran around the large tree and Boris and I sat in wooden chairs by a fire pit with no fire, drinking bottled water.
‘We’ll head back soon,’ said Boris, ‘so we can change before the reading at the Alliance Française.’
‘That’s at five?’ I said.